


i see you

by wearing_tearing



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Cooking, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson is So Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8157491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: Steve shakes his head, dread rushing through him. “Sam, no.”“Sam, yes.” Sam narrows his eyes, pointing a finger at him. “You’re taking cooking lessons.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [心知肚明](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9251804) by [abbabccd05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbabccd05/pseuds/abbabccd05)



> crossposted from [tumbr](http://hawkguyz.tumblr.com/post/150922221931/stucky-32)!

“This is it.”

“Sam,” Steve sighs, shoulders slumped as he watches the firefighters enter their building, guilt etched in every line of his face.

“This is the last time,” Sam announces, leaving no room for argument. “I’m standing outside and only wearing  _boxers_  because your dumbass thought it was a good idea to try and make breakfast.”

“I thought—”

“I don’t care what you thought,” Sam hisses, shivering with cold. “There’s a reason you’re not allowed in the kitchen.”

“Sam—”

“You have no idea what you’re  _doing_ ,” Sam keeps going, “and that makes you think it’s okay to put a soggy pancake in the toaster.”

“I just wanted it to be crispy,” Steve mumbles, ducking his head.

“Oh, it was crispy alright,” Sam snaps back. “It was so crispy it got stuck there and it _caught on fire_.”

Steve winces, mind going back to the absolute panic he felt when he saw the flames and smoke curling towards the ceiling. “I’m sorry,” he says, ashamed.

“You bet your ass you’re sorry.” Sam punches him in the arm. “I know I look hot, but people shouldn’t be seeing me half naked because my best friend tried to burn our building down.”

“Do you want my shirt?” Steve asks, already grabbing the hem and starting to pull it over his head.

“No,” Sam says firmly, catching Steve’s wrists and stopping him. “No, I do not want your ridiculously tight shirt. What I want is for you to learn how to cook.”

Steve shakes his head, dread rushing through him. “Sam, no.”

“Sam,  _yes_.” Sam narrows his eyes, pointing a finger at him. “You’re taking cooking lessons.”

**

Cooking lessons turn out not to be as bad as Steve thought they would be.

Mostly because as soon as Steve steps inside the room and drops his things on one of the stations, one of the most beautiful guys he’s ever seen flops down right next to him.

“So, what are you in for?” the man asks, eyes blue and devious, pink lips curled up in a smirk.

“What?” Steve is too distracted to say anything more than that, the sharp lines of the man’s jaw and the loose strands of hair that fall from his ponytail catching his attention.

The man’s smirk deepens, obviously amused at Steve’s reaction. “You look like the only other person in this room who doesn’t want to be here. Figured someone made you come.”

Steve kind of wants this  _man_  to make him come, but he bites back the words, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “Uh, yeah,” he clears his throat. “My roommate made me sign up. I might have accidentally almost set our place on fire.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“What about you?” Steve can’t help but ask, curious and wanting to keep the man talking.

“I accidentally burned microwaved popcorn,” the guy answers, pressing his lips together, “for the fifth time. In three months. Figured paying for cooking classes was less expensive than buying a new microwave because of the smell.”

“That sounds like a good idea…” Steve trails off, looking at the man expectantly.

“Bucky Barnes.” He offers Steve a hand.

Steve shakes it, skin tingling. “Steve Rogers. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, pal.” Bucky smiles at him, touching linger as he lets go, fingers sliding over Steve’s palm. Steve can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine, and neither does he miss the way Bucky’s smile turns into something deeper. “What do you say we stick together?”

“I don’t know,” Steve muses, narrowing his eyes. “You did kind of kill your microwave.”

Bucky gasps, all mock offense. “How rude.”

Steve laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sticking together sounds good actually.”

“Great.” Bucky clasps his hands together. “Between the two of us, we might even learn something.”

**

What they learn is that while Bucky is a god with knives, Steve has him beat when it comes to prep work. Both of them can follow a recipe if they put their minds to it and follow the directions very slowly, and they actually manage to cook more than one passable meal as the lessons run along, from breakfast foods to pasta to stir fry.

The most important thing, though, in Steve’s opinion, is that they learn to be friends. It actually makes Steve look forward to cooking class, knowing Bucky will be there, with his easy smiles and bright eyes and telling Steve stories about his week.

Sam eyes him suspiciously for it, every time Steve leaves their place with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face. Steve figures the only reason Sam hasn’t said anything about it yet is because there have been no more accidents, and he has actually learned how to make French toast the way Sam likes.

So all in all, cooking classes turn out to be the highlight of Steve’s week. And all because it means he gets to spend time with Bucky again.

So of course Steve is dreading the end of the lessons, stomach in knots as he sits down at his station on their last day. He knows he could choose to continue on with a more advanced course, but he’s happy with what he’s learned. He also doesn’t see the point in signing up more of his free time if Bucky isn’t doing the same.

“My plan was to learn to feed myself and not ruining any more kitchen appliances,” Bucky had said, looking down at his roast beef in satisfaction. “So mission accomplished.”

If Steve is being honest with himself, something he tries to do often, the main reason he doesn’t want to say goodbye to Bucky after classes are over is because he… well… has a tiny bit of a  _crush_. His heart kind of flips whenever he sees Bucky smile, and his cheeks turn pink when Bucky leans in too close, and his palms get sweaty whenever Bucky holds up a fork for him to taste the food he made.

And Steve doesn’t want to lose that. He doesn’t want to have to say goodbye and maybe never hear from Bucky again. Because sure, they might be friends during cooking lessons, but Steve doesn’t know if their friendship extends past that.

“Don’t we look glum today,” Bucky comments as he flops down next to Steve, grabbing a hair tie from his bag and making quick work of putting his hair up in a bun. “Did something happen?”

Steve shakes his head, offering Bucky a small smile. “Sorry, I guess it just kind of hit me today is our last day.”

Bucky frowns, bumping his knee against Steve’s. “Don’t know about you, Steve, but I don’t plan on never seeing you again after all of this is over.”

Steve knows he doesn’t look attractive when his mouth drops open, eyes widening in surprise. “Y-you don’t?” he stutters, already feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Of course not,” Bucky says, expression softening. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

Steve stomach flips, eyes focusing on the way Bucky is fidgeting in place and staring at Steve from under his lashes, almost as if he’s nervous about something. It makes Steve’s heart beat faster, hope bubbling bright in his chest.

“What is it?” Steve asks, pressing his knee against Bucky’s in reassurance.

Bucky glances down at where their knees touch, lips curling up at the corners. When he looks up at Steve again, he says, “I was wondering if you wanted to put what we learned to test and cook something with me. At my place. Tomorrow night.”

“Like a date?” Steve teases, unable to keep a smile off his face.

“Yes,” Bucky rolls his eyes, “exactly like a date.”

“I’d love that.”

“Great.” Bucky grins, and all Steve can do is smile back, giddy.

**

“Nice place.”

Bucky’s apartment looks cozy and lived in, a mess of mismatched furniture and earthy tones, with books and knick-knacks all over the place. Bucky thanks him and gives him a quick tour, before practically dragging Steve to the kitchen.

“Someone’s excited,” Steve comments, flashing Bucky a grin.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Bucky asks, squeezing Steve’s hand in his. “I’m about to have dinner with a great guy.”

Steve sighs, although he’s quite pleased with Bucky’s words. “And you’re going to make me do half the work, too.”

“Only  _some_ of it,” Bucky corrects him, and then gestures to the counter. “I already did some of the prep work.”

“That’s very considerate of you.”

“I know,” Bucky sniffs.

Cooking with Bucky is familiar, seeing as they’ve been doing that around each other for a while now. Bucky tells them they’re making chicken parmigiana, so Steve starts heating the saucepan and grabbing the olive oil, garlic, and red pepper flakes as Bucky works with the chicken breasts.

“What if we mess up?” Steve asks after a few minutes, helping Bucky lay down the chicken in a large pan filled with a mixture of breadcrumbs and parmesan cheese.

“There’s a takeout menu stuck to the fridge,” Bucky replies, amused. “We can order something if this ends up looking like it’ll give us food poisoning.”

“Don’t get people get food poisoning because they  _can’t_  tell the food isn’t good?” Steve points out, raising an eyebrow when Bucky frowns at him.

“I’m not going to discuss the particulars of that when I’m cooking,” Bucky grumbles, which means Steve has a point. “It might jinx us.”

“We don’t want that,” Steve agrees, knocking on one of the wooden cabinets three times.

Bucky snorts, staring at Steve with fondness in his eyes. “Pass me the salt, you idiot.”

Steve does as told, taking the pepper himself and sprinkling a little bit over the chicken breasts before they move on to cooking them. Steve lets Bucky take care of that part, as it is one of the things he’s better at than Steve.

“Are we making dessert too?” Steve asks, mouth already watering, even though he knows they still have a good half an hour to go before they can sit down and eat.

“Check the fridge.”

Steve blinks. “For a takeout menu?”

Bucky gives him a long look over his shoulder. “ _Inside_  the fridge.”

“Oh.” Steve turns around to open the fridge, mouth curling up in a grin when he sees the chocolate pudding in one of the shelves. “Nice.”

Bucky laughs. “Glad you approve. Now help me with the tomato sauce.”

Steve spoons some tomato sauce into a baking dish, covering the surface of it. Bucky layers the chicken pieces and tops them with mozzarella slices, with Steve covering them with another spoon of sauce, and then they both sprinkle the rest of the parmesan cheese on top of it all. Bucky already preheated the oven, so all they have to do is slide the dish inside it and set the timer.

“This is fun,” Steve comments as they start cleaning things up, gathering the dirty dishes the putting them in the sink after they both wash their hands.

Bucky stares at him, incredulous. “Then by all means, please do all of my dishes.”

“I don’t mean  _this_ ,” Steve gestures to the pile of dirty appliances, “but cooking. Doing it with you is fun.”

Bucky smiles, a slow kind of dirty smiles that makes his eyes glint. “Doing it with me is fun, huh?”

It takes Steve a second, but once he realizes what he’s said he groans, covering his face with his hands. He knows it does nothing to hide the blush running down his neck, but at least it’s something.

“I didn’t mean  _that_ ,” Steve protests, and then adds, “Not that that wouldn’t be fun. I mean, I’m sure you’re great in be— That is—“

“Steve,” Bucky stops him, wrapping his fingers around Steve’s wrists and tugging his hands down. “I get what you mean.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve offers, face red.

“It’s okay,” Bucky tells him, smile soft. “It’s good to know I’m not the only one thinking about it.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes out, butterflies in his stomach.

“Yeah, oh.”

Steve ducks his head, face still flushed. He slides his hands from Bucky’s grip, but only so he can tangle their fingers together, giving them a squeeze. “That’s good.”

“I should think so,” Bucky murmurs, using Steve’s hold on him to pull him closer and press a kiss to his forehead. “Now help me wash the dishes so we can start with the pasta.”

**

Dinner turns out to be surprisingly good. Steve and Bucky even snap pictures of their plates, grinning like idiots — Steve sends his to Sam, getting five thumbs up emojis in return —, before they sit down to eat.

Bucky watches as Steve takes his first bite of chicken, and Steve can’t help but tease him a little. The food actually tastes really good, so it’s only half an act when he moans, low and drawn out, eyes fluttering shut as he chews. When he opens his eyes again, Bucky’s lips are parted, gaze dark and glued to Steve’s mouth.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Steve asks, blinking big innocent eyes at Bucky.

Bucky snaps out of his daze, giving Steve a look that means he knows exactly what Steve is about. “I see you, Steven.”

Steve winks, giddy and pleased, and eats some more.

Conversation flows during dinner like it always does when they’re together. There are no awkward silences or stilled topics, Steve and Bucky talking about everything from their jobs to their favorite TV shows to the cute dogs they saw during the week.

“We did a good job,” Steve says once Bucky packs the rest of the food, taking a sip of his drink.

“We really did.” Bucky nods, slumping in his chair and patting his stomach. “I almost have no room left for dessert.”

“Almost, huh?” Steve deadpans, earning a smile from Bucky.

Dessert is served in the living room, with Steve and Bucky sitting on Bucky’s couch, close enough that their sides brush whenever they move. The TV is on, volume turned on, just for background noise as they eat and talk.

It’s one of the best dates Steve has been on in a while. He knows part of that is because he’s so comfortable with Bucky, having their friendship to fall back on, so he doesn’t waste a lot of time over thinking things or doubting himself. It’s easy to be around Bucky, enjoying his company and having fun.

So Steve is a little disappointed once they finish dessert, knowing he will probably have to leave soon.

Or at least he thinks so, until Bucky turns to him, a hopeful look on his face. “Want to watch a movie? I think there’s a  _Harry Potter_  marathon on.”

Steve huffs. “There’s always a  _Harry Potter_  marathon on. And I’d love to.”

Bucky smiles, flicking the channels until he finds the right one. They scoot closer together on the couch, Steve taking a deep breath before raising an arm and wrapping it around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky shamelessly cuddles up to him, their sides now flush together, and rests a hand on Steve’s stomach, thumb rubbing circles in the fabric of his shirt.

Steve grins, stomach flipping, and pulls Bucky closer.

**

Steve wakes up sometime later, the TV still on, and Bucky asleep on his chest.

He rubs a hand over his face and looks down, taking in the soft lines of Bucky’s face as he dreams, mouth parted and lids twitching. He looks younger like this, and Steve can’t help but hold him a little bit tighter, even if just for a second.

“Buck,” Steve whispers, bringing a hand up to swipe Bucky’s hair back away from his face. “Bucky, wake up.”

Bucky snuffles, pressing his cheek against Steve’s chest, fingers curling and uncurling around Steve’s shirt. “Wha?” he mumbles, eyes heavy and voice thick with sleep.

“We fell asleep,” Steve murmurs, tucking Bucky’s hair behind his ear.

“Ugh,” Bucky groans, pressing his face against Steve’s chest for a few seconds before pulling away. “Sorry, didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“It’s okay,” Steve tells him, smiling a little. “I don’t mind.”

In fact, he’d love for Bucky to fall asleep on him again.

“What time is it?”

Steve reaches over to the coffee table and picks up his phone. “A little after midnight. I should probably head home.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, getting off the couch and offering a hand to Steve. “I’ll walk you out.”

Steve lets himself be pulled up, tangling his fingers through Bucky’s. He watches Bucky from the corner of his eyes, seeing the way he smiles down at their hands.

“Thanks for tonight,” Steve says once they’re at Bucky’s door. “I had a great time.”

“Think we could do this again sometime?” Bucky asks, taking a step closer and into Steve’s space.

“I’m free tomorrow,” Steve answers, and then pulls Bucky into a kiss when he laughs.

Their teeth clink together, but the kiss is just as good as Steve thought it would be, with Bucky’s soft lips under his, still tasting a little bit of chocolate. Steve keeps things chaste, not wanting to start anything he won’t be able to finish, but Bucky is flushed and looking a little dazed when he pulls back.

“What do you say?” Steve nuzzles Bucky’s cheek, reveling in their closeness.

And Steve can feel a smile against his skin when Bucky presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and says, “Tomorrow sounds great.”

 


End file.
